“Certainly,” said my mother, who had been awakened by the knocking at such an unaccustomed hour, and who came into the room in her nightcap while we were talking, “be sincere now, my dear son. You love this beautiful lady and I even think you are beloved by her? Well then, confess to your parents.”
“I am perfectly willing to confess,” I replied, kissing my mother. “I was in love with Madame d’Ionis for two days; but I was cured on the third day.”
“Upon your honor?” said my father.
“Upon my honor.”
“And the reason for this change?”
“Do not ask me, I cannot tell you.”
“I know the reason,” said my father, laughing and yawning at the same time, “it is because little Madam d’Ionis and this handsome cousin ‘who doesn’t know her.’ But this is no time for gossip upon such subjects. It is only five o’clock, and since my son will neither make love or make speeches to-day, I intend to sleep all the morning.”
Relieved from anxiety concerning the duel, I took a little rest. During the day, the news of M. d’Ionis’ decease, which took place at Vienna fifteen days before (news did not travel so quickly then as now), was published in the city, and the suit suspended in view of a speedy arrangement between the parties concerned.
In the evening we received a visit from young d’Aillane. He came to beg my father’s pardon, and this time I granted it gladly. Notwithstanding the serious manner in which he spoke of M. d’Ionis’ death, we could easily see that he concealed his joy with difficulty. He took supper with us; after which he followed me into my room.
“My dear friend,” said he, “for you must allow me to call you such henceforth, I would like to unburden my heart to you, which overflows in spite of myself. You do not consider me so interested, I hope, as to think I am so wild with joy, over the close of this suit. The secret of my happiness”——